


Dust

by Kahvi, Roadstergal



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Coffee, Depression, F/M, Gen, Loneliness, Loss, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pregnancy, Rebuilding, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 08:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16281341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: All Earth has now is dust and blood.





	Dust

**Author's Note:**

> Post-IW vignettes.

It hit Tony like a tsunami when he arrived, leaving him breathless, sputtering, unable to think.  There was too much to do. And that was all that kept him together, it seemed.

An swarming, diverse array of _things to do_ , all focused on SHIELD, Stark Industries, and the utter wreck of a bloodbath that the world had become.   Intellectually, he knew they were all critically important.  But the concepts all were as neutral, as tasteless, as dust in his mouth.

Hospitals.  Roads.  Power grids.  Employees.  Citizens.  They should have more meaning than just words tossed around at meetings by concerned faces in suits, shouldn't they? Nobody smiled, ever.  Well.  How could anyone, now?  The shapes and colors were different, but they were all madhouse reflections of himself - dour faces, haggard, circles under their eyes as their hands shuffled papers, pointing, discussing.  There was nothing to discuss.  He nodded, then did what was needed.  He knew how to manipulate symbols, to make _power_ reach a _hospital_ , to make the abstract  representation of _bodies_ start to decrease.  He could make goals like this, accomplish them.

Most days, he was too tired by the time he finally returned home to do anything other than fall into an exhausted sleep.  On the bed when he hit it, on the sofa when the too-big bed was too far away, waking up when the alarm rang, too soon for him to feel any rest.  Those rare days that he had a moment to himself, with nothing to do - those days were the worst of them.  He sat, seeing nothing, not even realizing time was passing, feeling his heart thud, endlessly, pointlessly.  Desperate for something to do, cringing at the idea of _having to do more_.  He made no sense and he hated himself for it.

He drove a knife through his arm, once, just to see if it felt like something. It hurt like an old memory, a dull little ache. It upset Pepper, so he didn't do it again.

Pepper was pregnant, she told him.  Had they fucked? He couldn't remember doing that. But it's possible he hadn't noticed. Days ran into more days, but without any sense of _progression_ , of months, of seasons. The days were all different, but he couldn't tell them apart anyway. Until one day when there was a speech, a crowd, Tony standing and watching the faces turned towards the speaker, like his words could have any effect on the universe.  People at meetings started to smile, after that. He wanted to punch them.

He threw a glass at the lieutenant governor. She had said... something about her son. They sent him home.

 _You need a break_. No, he was broken enough already.

The insistent knocking would not stop.  The face behind the door was familiar, even with the ridiculous beard over it. That stern mouth. Those icy blue eyes.  Those perfect white teeth.  And for the first time since... since, Tony felt something.

It _hurt_.

* * *

"I killed Peter."

Steve paused with his hand on the refrigerator door. It was the first thing Tony had said since Steve had arrived, and while he'd thought he was prepared for anything, he clearly wasn't. "Say again?"

"I killed Peter."

It was the matter-of-fact way in which he said it that made Steve actually take a step back. "You killed Peter." Just a confused echo. It was all he could manage. And Tony turned to look at him with those huge dark eyes, and there was nothing in them. Nothing. But he smiled.

"Yeah. I don't know what to do about it. Nothing I can do, I suppose. I just feel like there should be."

"Wait, are you-"

"No," he shook his head, "I'm not going to kill myself. Too messy. Besides," he waved a hand, "Pepper, you know. She's been through enough. No one needs to see my skinny mangled-ass corpse first thing in the morning."

Now. He was thinking about doing it now. Had Steve interrupted him. "Listen, Tony..."

"I'm glad you came. I missed you. Uh, there's no milk left. I know that's what you were looking for, if you were going to make us coffee."

"Yeah, I was, actually."

Tony smiled that empty smile again, and shrugged. "I wouldn't mind coffee."

Steve had never made a cup that fast.

* * *

 "So you killed Peter." They were seated on the empty porch in the dark light of the early morning, and Tony was clutching his mug like it was a new artificial heart.

"Nice to see you too."

"You started it." Steve shifted a little, to face him exactly. "Tony, talk to me. What is this?"

"You know. He came... came with me." He shrugged. Turned the mug. "I encouraged him. I tried not to, but I dunno." He wiped at his nose. "I guess I liked the idea too much. Stroked that famous ego, you know?"

"So you helped him out."

"Yeah. Got him suits. Followed up a little." He flashed a grin. "A lot. Fine; obessively." He sighed. "I loved him. Love him."

Would it... The last time they saw one another, Tony had tried to kill him. Steve put a hand on his shoulder anyway. Tony only barely flinched. "He looked up to you."

"Yeah," Tony raised his voice, "he did. That's right; he did!" It broke, and so did he, mug falling, and he too, crumpling into Steve's lap. He wasn't saying anything beyond shards of shattered words, clinging to Steve with wet hands.

"Tony..." Steve let his hands fall on Tony's body the way one might a skittish dog. Tony let him. "You didn't... How did he die."

"Dust..." Barely a choked whisper.

"Yeah."

"Because... because I..."

"Tony. What would have happened if you'd left him. If you'd just let him do his own thing. That smart kid? You think he'd stayed away? He'd have still fought. He might have been killed sooner. You saved his life. Again and again."

Tony didn't move. His body rocked slowly, still clinging to Steve.

"And what; you think he'd get any less obliterated if he'd have stayed on Earth? What could you have done?"

"Nothing."

"Exactly. But you know what you did?"

No answer. The sun was rising, hesitantly. Lazy heat threatened on the horizon.

"You were there for him. When he was scared and dying? You were there. You. You didn't kill him. You saved him."

Pepper found them, eventually, and maybe Tony was right. There were better sights to see in the morning that a pair of still-walking corpses, clinging to one another.


End file.
